Life Imitating Art
by xxdonedirtcheapxx
Summary: One Shot. Set immediately after The Murder of One. Rebekah tries to deal with her pain and Klaus tries to avoid his own.


I have never written or read any TVD fan fiction before but after The Murder of One this scene kept popping into my head and I had to write it. I hope some of you will enjoy it. :)

**Post-The Murder of One (3 x 18)**

It was funny how something so beautiful could seem so cold. Rebekah was referring to her bedroom but she supposed the same could be said for herself.

Klaus had designed every room in the house, down to miniscule detail. He had always had an eye for architecture.

Just down the hall, was Finn's empty room. He had probably spent a total of five minutes in that room. It was simple, nothing grand or elegant about it. She supposed that was just another way for Klaus to take a jab at him. There had never been any real love lost between them.

Further down the hall were Elijah and Kol's rooms, both standing hauntingly empty.

Then there was her room. It was beautiful. A fireplace, a large closet that would hold as many clothes as she wished, a luxurious bathroom attached to it. She had a large four poster bed, complete with flowing curtains and a chandalier overhead. It was every girl's dream.

But there she sat. Alone. In the middle of her gigantic bed, staring at the painting that faced it on the opposite wall. And it felt like anything but a dream.

Stefan was willing to take a stake in the chest if it meant saving Damon's life.

Nik was more than happy to take the news that Matt had plunged a stake into Finn.

If she closed her eyes, she could see the imagery almost as if she were there. His skin turning gray, his body becoming hollow, the flames taking over him...

What the hell was wrong with Nik? He constantly preached about family but it meant nothing to him. Finn, Elijah, Kol...even _she _meant nothing to him. She constantly chose his side, time and time again, forsaking every other member of her family at one time or another...

"I thought you might have gone," Klaus' firm voice broke into her thoughts as he walked into the doorway of her room.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed, "Let me guess. You've penned my scathing eulogy to deliver after I'm staked by a Salvatore...Good riddance and all that..."

Klaus swallowed hard and walked further into the room.

"I hadn't heard anything out of you in a few hours. Normally you're up and down these halls like mad..."

"And you were concerned? Oh how sweet of you _brother_," Rebekah rolled her eyes, drawing her legs underneath her body indian style.

"Rebekah, I know you're upset about Finn," Klaus started, biting down on his tongue.

"Of course I am," Rebekah spat "He was _my _family. My big brother. Back before we had to worry about stakes and spells and white oak trees...You seem to have forgotten all that on your lonely way to the top of the hybrid_ heap_."

"Well then, I'll leave you to your grieving," Klaus bit down even harder on his tongue and turned to go.

"Do you remember when you painted this for me?" Rebekah stopped him.

He turned to find her staring intently at the landscape that was framed on the wall.

"Your _300th _birthday wasn't it?" he smirked teasingly, walking back closer to the end of the bed.

"You said you painted it for me because I missed home and you didn't want me to forget what it looked like," Rebekah continued, avoiding his gaze.

"I remember," Klaus sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at it along with her.

"I used to look at it for hours," she sighed "I would wish and wish that I could close my eyes and when I opened them, I would be back there...That Henric would be alive...That you and Elijah didn't want to rip each other apart...Kol, Finn...our mother. We would all be together...And the worst thing we had to worry about was Mikael punishing us...not chasing us down with wooden bullets."

"You dragged that thing with us everywhere," Klaus intended to avoid the real point of the conversation.

There was no point in looking back, to what might have been. He had wasted far too much time on that himself.

"But I see after 90 years, you kept it," Rebekah glanced over at him.

"For you," he insisted, standing up again "I knew you would want it."

Rebekah nodded, but he could tell she didn't believe him.

"Good night...sister."

Rebekah watched him go and slowly close the door behind him.

What she didn't know, was that he sat on the other side of the door for hours.

After all, there were two wooden stakes out there in the hands of the dangerous but _noble_ Salvatores.


End file.
